


light & spark

by sailingtovalinor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Civil War (Marvel), Hopeful Ending, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25073101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailingtovalinor/pseuds/sailingtovalinor
Summary: On Tony’s faceplate, Steve sees the reflection of the fireworks, bursting into dazzling showers in front of them. It’s a lot like Tony is, he thinks. Light, and spark.There’s so much that Steve wants to say just then, but when he opens his mouth, it’s only to say a quietThank you.He doesn’t say anything else, but he thinks that if Tony were to look at him, he would see everything else left unsaid right there on Steve’s face, in his eyes.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 38





	light & spark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ishipallthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishipallthings/gifts), [shieldmaidenofrohan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieldmaidenofrohan/gifts).



> thank you both for being great buddies! it's been a while, but whenever i find myself in a stevetony mood, i'm always reminded of you two. :)

Steve hears the whine of Iron Man’s repulsors but doesn’t acknowledge it, knowing that Tony would prefer it that way. He’s sure that Tony knows he’s here, but he’s not sure why Tony is.

They’ve not occupied the same space, just the two of them, in a long time.

Steve thinks about that last time, in a room walled with glass. About Tony, less guarded that he’s ever seen him. About himself, walking away.

He hunches into himself instinctively. Tries to make himself smaller, less noticeable.

It’s a painful memory. He doesn’t want Tony to be reminded of it, too.

Tony touches down on the Tower’s landing platform, the whine of his armor cutting out, but its presence felt. 

Along with the silence.

It’s heavy, almost oppressive.

Steve still doesn’t look up, but in his peripheral vision, he could see Tony looking out over the city.

It’s a while before Tony speaks.

“Want a different view of the fireworks, Cap?”

Steve looks up, then. He wants, he _wants_. But he must have stayed quiet for a little too long, because Tony’s speaking again, giving him an out, telling Steve he could say _No_ in a voice that’s nervous and oddly hurt, and Steve doesn’t want that. 

He’s never wanted that.

“No, I- Yes, I would. I would like that,” Steve answers, quietly. A little wonderingly.

Tony turns to face Steve and holds out his arm. He doesn’t say anything else.

Steve stands, brushing himself off. He tucks his little sketchbook and pencil into the inside pocket of his jacket. He thinks about what he’d been sketching, right before Tony appeared in front of him.

Thinks about what a gift it is, that he could now draw a new scene, when he returns to the Tower. One of a new moment, shared.

*

It’s the first time he’s touched Tony outside of battle, after Siberia. He suppresses a shudder, and he thinks that, inside the armor, Tony might have done the same. He half-expects Tony to change his mind. To offer an apology—because he would, even though Steve couldn’t even blame him for it—and say that he’s trying, but it’s not the right time. That it’s still too soon.

But Tony’s arm, encased in gleaming armor, wraps around Steve’s waist without hesitation. Holds him close.

Steve aches, a little. Thinks about what he could have had, once upon a time.

*

“Happy birthday, Steve,” Tony says quietly.

Steve turns to look at him. Tony’s faceplate is down, has remained so the entire time. Steve doesn’t quite know what to make of it, what to make of _this_ , of Tony seeking him out.

Holding Steve close, while still keeping him at a distance.

But there’s something deliberate in the use of his name, instead of what it’s been since Siberia. _Rogers. Captain._ Like it means something more. Something that feels, almost, like forgiveness. And—despite the fact that they’re hovering hundreds of feet up in the air, with only a thin shirt and his leather jacket protecting Steve from the elements—Steve feels a little curl of warmth unfurling in his chest.

On Tony’s faceplate, Steve sees the reflection of the fireworks, bursting into dazzling showers in front of them. It’s a lot like Tony is, he thinks. Light, and spark.

There’s so much that Steve wants to say just then, but when he opens his mouth, it’s only to say a quiet _Thank you_.

He doesn’t say anything else, but he thinks that if Tony were to look at him, he would see everything else left unsaid right there on Steve’s face, in his eyes.

*

Tony hovers just above the landing platform, low enough for Steve to jump and comfortably land on his feet. He does. There’s probably something to be said in the way he almost immediately misses the press of Tony’s metal suit, uncomfortable and cold, against his body.

Steve turns to look back up at Tony. His face is still hidden, but the cool blue slits of his suit gaze back at him. 

“Tony... Thank you,” Steve says again. He thinks it’s hopelessly inadequate for what Tony has done for him, but he imagines he could see a corner of Tony’s mouth quirking up in response as he lifts his hand up in a salute before he turns and leaves, receding into the distance. 

**Author's Note:**

> I like to imagine that later that night, Steve draws an image of Tony hovering high above the city, with fireworks reflected on his faceplate. He'd slip the drawing into an envelope, and then slip that envelope under Tony’s door.
> 
> Maybe there's a message that he leaves, on the back of that drawing.


End file.
